


The Freedom To Dream

by Sokkas_First_Fangirl



Series: Froger Week [3]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: (on Brian's part), Alternate Universe - Circus, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Arson, But Not Much, Cheating, Circus, Fluff, Forbidden Love, Friends to Lovers, Froger Week, Froger Week 2019, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, I mean there's arson, Inspired by The Greatest Showman (2017), Love Confessions, M/M, Minor Violence, Past Domestic Violence, Period Typical Attitudes, Protective Kashmira, Theatre, Trapeze, You've seen the movie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2021-01-25 14:34:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21357805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sokkas_First_Fangirl/pseuds/Sokkas_First_Fangirl
Summary: Roger Taylor joins Brian May's Circus as an act of rebellion, one last shot to find some happiness and freedom. He already has a million ideas of what song and dance numbers to write, how to help polish the acts...But all those thoughts go flying out of his head when he walks into the circus, to find Freddie Bulsara leaping from rope to rope, soaring through the air like a bird.He's a goner. Well and truly a goner. But what real hope do they have? He's the heir to the Taylor fortune, and Freddie's a circus act.You'd have to rewrite the stars.OR: The Greatest Showman AU that no one asked for, but I wrote anyway.
Relationships: Anita Dobson/Brian May, Brian May & Roger Taylor, Brian May/Chrissie Mullen, Freddie Mercury & Kashmira Bulsara, Freddie Mercury/Roger Taylor, John Deacon/Veronica Tetzlaff
Series: Froger Week [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1538959
Comments: 24
Kudos: 51





	1. The Other Side

**Author's Note:**

> Don't judge me, I saw the circus prompt and I had to do this. This'll only be about three chapters I think; it's more like snippets than anything.

**_“Don't you wanna get away to a whole new part you're gonna play? 'Cause I got what you need, so come with me and take the ride to the other side! So if you do like I do- so if you do like me- forget the cage, 'cause we know how to make the key. Oh, damn! Suddenly we're free to fly. We're going to the other side.” -The Other Side,_ The Greatest Showman**

Roger had heard all about Brian May’s circus. Don’t get him wrong, he actually quite admired the guy; it was a clever idea, he had taken London by storm. Getting a bunch of freaks and outcasts on stage was risky to say the least, but he’d pulled it off.

That didn’t mean he was going to _work_ with the guy.

Roger was a Taylor. The only son. He had duties expected of him (as he was constantly reminded). It was bad enough he was a play-write, if he worked with Brian, he’d be disowned. Disgraced. God knew no one would ever take him seriously again.

And yet, for whatever reason, there was Brian May, waiting for him at the end of a show. There was no mistaking him, not with that height, not with that hair.

“Mr Taylor?” he asked, though the gleam in his eyes told Roger that he knew all too well who he was talking to. “Brian May,” he said, holding his hand out. “I just wanted to congratulate you on your show.”

Reluctantly, Roger shook his hand. As soon as they let go, Brian was off, rambling about Roger’s talent. Roger smoked and eyed him warily, waiting for the hammer to fall.

“What do you want?” he asked bluntly.

Brian’s smile faltered, but he carried on gamely. “I want you to join me,” he said. “I’ve seen what you can do. Your shows are great, the writing’s wonderful- it’s not your fault the actors lack talent. I’m wanting to expand my show- a few dances and tricks are good for a while, but I want to liven things up, and I think you can help me.”

Well, the bastard sure knew how to flatter. Roger supposed that was the whole point.

So he tossed his cigarette to the ground and stomped on it.

“There’s a pub nearby,” he said, walking ahead of Brian. “We can talk there, it’s fucking freezing out here.”

  
Brian knew how to get his point across; he knew how to cozen, he seemed to know exactly what Roger wanted to hear.

“Aren’t you tired of only doing what’s expected of you?” he pressed. “You work with me, and I’ll let you organise whatever acts you want, write whatever songs you want. What do you have to lose?”

“My standing in society,” Roger said automatically, gulping his beer. “My place in my family. My money. My friends…” The words fell flat, even to him. He was just repeating his father’s words, and he knew it. They both knew it.

Brian smiled at him. “You mean to tell me that you don’t ever want to get away from it all? To just have some freedom? You wouldn’t have to worry about what everyone else thinks, because you’d be surrounded by people just like you. You could do what you wanted, when you wanted. It’s not like I’m asking you to be an act, Roger, I’m asking you to help me _manage_ the circus.”

Tempting, tempting…

“It’s up to you,” Brian said, sipping his beer more slowly than Roger. “You can either come with me and actually have some creative freedom- you can get away from it all- or you can go back to your theatre. Your call.”

It was true that Roger was only allowed to write a certain way. He could only write plays that he knew the critics would approve of. He could only write shows his parents would be proud of. But he didn’t enjoy it. He hadn’t for a long time. It was getting harder and harder to come up with something new; he’d begun to repeat himself, and everyone noticed.

He was tired. He was frustrated.

He wanted to have some fun again. He wanted to _care_ again.

So he turned to Brian with a smirk. “How much will you pay me?”

“Yeah, I should have expected that,” Brian sighed. He looked Roger up and down, lips pursed. “Seven percent.”

“Fuck off,” Roger said. “Do I look like I was born this morning? I’ll take eighteen.”

“Not happening,” Brian said.

“Fifteen.”

“I’ll give you eight.”

“Twelve.”

“_Maybe_ nine if this goes well.”

Roger’s eyes narrowed. “Ten,” he demanded. “Seems fair for a junior partner.”

“You’re an over-compensated apprentice,” Brian scoffed. But he grinned, and raised his glass. “Fine. It’s a deal.”

“Smart man,” Roger said, returning the grin. They knocked their glasses together and quickly downed the last of their drinks. “Right then. Let’s see this famed circus of yours, eh?”

The alcohol had him buzzing, and Brian was surprisingly good company. They made jokes and swapped stories all the way to the circus.

“Freddie and Kashmira will be practicing now,” Brian said. “You should see them, they’re fantastic.”

The circus was a huge building near the train station, literally big enough for elephants and giraffes- Roger saw them as Brian led him backstage. They passed a woman with a beard, two albinos, a man who was at least three heads taller than Brian, a man covered in so much hair that he almost resembled an animal. There was a woman whose skin looked like tree bark, a pair of Siamese twins, a dwarf who only reached Roger’s knee, people of all different colours, shapes and sizes. 

And yet, there were some...Well, regular looking people there. A young man with a long brown braid and green-grey eyes sat chatting with a pretty girl who was dressed in a bright pink and yellow dress. A petite, pretty blonde girl was sharpening some knives and throwing them at a target. 

There was a very tall fat man, but as far as Roger could see there was nothing extraordinary about him...Until he spotted the man padding himself out with pillows, until he resembled a ball more than a person; he almost looked like a cartoon in a newspaper, especially when he pulled on his brightly coloured costume.

Another young man with a dragon tattoo was feeding the lions, a red-haired man pranced back and forth in an Elizabeth I costume.

There was so much going on that Roger wasn’t sure what to look at first. He wanted to stand and watch, to take it all in and start making notes immediately, but Brian tugged him along, up some narrow wooden-stairs. A sign with a crooked arrow read _PLATFORMS, CAUTION!_

He saw what the sign meant when they reached the top and Brian opened the purple curtains; they were suddenly on a narrow platform that had no railings. They were on the highest platform, nearly at the ceiling, and the drop was dizzying.

And, swinging back and forth on the ropes, jumping from rope to rope, looping their legs over thin wooden swings (were they swings? Just barely if you asked Roger; you couldn’t sit on them, you had no choice but to hang on with your knees alone), and performing hoop tricks, was a young boy and girl. They were both petite, with golden brown skin and long black hair. Laughing, the girl swung off her rope and landed on a lower platform. She gave a dramatic bow; on the ground, the boy with the plait clapped, the girl he was talking with whistled.

The boy continued his routine; his hair was tied back with a yellow ribbon to match his shirt; he wore a pair of silver leggings, but they looked a little threadbare, clearly patched in places, the same as his ballet shoes. Surely that wasn’t his costume, surely that was just his training gear?

He was incredibly flexible, Roger had to give him that; he wasn’t sure how anyone could bend like that. Certainly, even the boy’s sister hadn’t been able to bend like that- because that had to be his sister, that had to be Kashmira and Freddie, the trapeze siblings the whole city was talking about.

Freddie moved so fast he was a blur, gaining momentum, Roger couldn’t get a good look at his face.

But then Freddie swung to the last rope, hooking his legs over the swing and he swung right up towards Brian and Roger. He was laughing, his voice high and bright.

And then they came face to face.

It could only have lasted a second, but time seemed to slow when their eyes met. Freddie had big dark brown eyes that Roger suddenly felt he could drown in, full red lips and high cheekbones, an oddly delicate appearance for someone who was clearly so strong. He grinned, revealing large front teeth and an obvious overbite, and Roger found himself thinking that it suited him.

And then gravity kicked in, bringing Freddie back down. He flew off the swing, grabbing another rope, and twirled back down to the ground, landing on the tips of his toes, arms up like he was expecting applause- which he received. Every other circus act in attendance clapped.

Roger clapped with them, suddenly unable to look away from the boy- though truth be told, Freddie looked to be the same age as him, maybe even a little older.

“I told you they’re brilliant,” Brian said proudly.

“Yes,” Roger murmured. “He is.”

  
Of course, Brian led him straight to the siblings after rehearsals were finished.

“Fred, Kash!” he called, waving them over. Kashmira had let her hair down, wearing a man’s jacket over her training clothes, and had put on her street shoes. Freddie, by contrast, had draped an old plaid blanket over his shoulders, and was barefoot.

Roger tried not to stare and failed.

“This is Roger Taylor,” Brian said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Our newest recruit. Rog, this is Freddie and Kashmira Bulsara.”

“Lovely to meet you,” Kashmira said, holding out her hand. Roger shook it with a smile. There was an obvious resemblance between the siblings; the same hair, the same skin, the same nose, and the exact same eyes.

“You too,” Roger said. “Your rehearsal was brilliant.” That had Kashmira beaming. Freddie smiled slightly, mouth closed this time, and tilted his head.

“And what’s your act, darling?” he asked.

“Oh, I don’t have one,” Roger said.

Freddie’s smile widened slightly. “Everyone’s got an act,” he said. Before Roger could think of something to say (preferably something witty), Freddie walked away. He pulled the ribbon from his hair as he did, and Roger couldn’t look away as Freddie’s curly black hair tumbled down to his shoulders. His hips swayed subtly as he walked, and Roger couldn’t look away from _that_ either.

Kashmira loudly cleared her throat, startling him back to reality. Her hands were on her hips, her eyebrows were raised and everything about her suddenly screamed _back off._

She didn’t say anything. She just followed her brother.

“Er…” Roger glanced at Brian, but he only shrugged and smiled.

“They’re joined at the hip,” he said. “It’s just been the two of them for years.” He linked arms with Roger and turned him back towards the ring. “Come on, you need to meet Deacy.”

And yes, Roger knew he had to meet the other acts, but what he wanted was to follow after Freddie. Even dressed in threadbare clothing, even barefoot, he seemed to command the room, more like a prince than a circus boy.

But those thoughts could only lead to trouble, so Roger went with Brian, trying (and failing) to not think about Freddie Bulsara.


	2. Never Enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger wants Freddie more than anything, but fear holds him back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm having fun, okay? 😆 The next chapter of "Let The Feeling Grow" should hopefully be finished by tonight!

** _“You set off a dream in me. Getting louder now, can you hear it echoing? Take my hand, will you share this with me? 'Cause, darling, without you all the shine of a thousand spotlights, all the stars we steal from the night sky will never be enough.” -Never Enough, _ ** **The Greatest Showman**

Working with the circus was unlike any other experience of Roger’s life. It was fast-paced, it was loud and colourful. He finally had the freedom to write what he wanted; no plays, but musical numbers instead. The months seemed to fly by; they even did a special Christmas show, everyone decked out in green and red. Roger helped Freddie assemble a Christmas tree, he helped Phoebe stick paper snowflakes up over the walls, he helped Deacy scatter fake snow on the floor.

Weirdly enough, he felt like he belonged there. He’d expected to be met with suspicion or scorn, but instead he was welcomed with open arms. Sure, Kashmira still sometimes eyed him warily, but that was only when he hung around Freddie.

Admittedly, that was quite often.

He couldn’t seem to help it. Freddie was vibrant and charismatic; one bat of his eyelashes, one smile, and he had everyone falling over themselves to do what he wanted. The crowds loved him; the amount of people that hung around after the shows, looking for autographs, only seemed to keep growing. 

Roger couldn’t blame them. He watched Freddie soar through the air, always in a new leotard, his hair tied back with a matching ribbon, and he felt as awed as them. After a few months, you’d think he’d be over that by now, but each performance knocked him flat.

Whenever he had a free moment, he found himself drifting towards Freddie. Likewise, Freddie often sought him out, skipping up to him with a happy little “Hello, darling!” 

The only issue really, was his family. He quickly lost count of how many angry letters he received from them. It had been made plain, in no uncertain terms, that he was not to come home until he quit the circus and left “that freakshow” as his father put it. His mother begged, his sister cajoled, his father threatened- and Roger would be lying if he said he didn’t worry. All his life, he’d been told who he was and what that meant; his future had been set out for him. He’d thought he was such a rebel, being a play-write, but _ this? _This was real rebellion. He was striking out on his own, and he was scared.

“What do you have there, darling?” Freddie suddenly appeared in front of him, leaning forward on the tips of his toes.

“Oh, just- my father’s nagging again, that’s all.” Roger scrunched the letter up, thrusting it into his pocket. “You know what parents are like.” He immediately felt like an ass. Freddie’s parents were long dead, he knew that.

But Freddie didn’t stop smiling sweetly. He sat on the bench next to Roger. “No,” he said. “Not really. I was only ten when they died.”

“What happened?” Roger asked, wondering if he was crossing a line.

“Train wreck,” Freddie said quietly. “Almost no one made it out.”

“I’m sorry,” Roger said. He thought of Freddie, only ten, and Kash, only _ eight, _ all alone in the world, and his eyes stung. Here he was, complaining about his family, his _ rich _family acting like snobs, and there was Freddie without one. Well, no, he had Kashmira. Which led him to his next question. 

“Who looked after you then?”

Freddie shrugged. “We were sent to Papa’s parents for a while, but...Let’s just say they were harsh. As soon as I turned sixteen, Kash and I left for England and we haven’t looked back since.” There was a hint of pride in his voice, he looked Roger in the eye, chin up. “And we’ve managed just fine on our own, thank you.”

“I know you have,” Roger said, smiling. “So, where’s the trapeze come in?”

“Well...I’ve always been flexible. I used to show Kash tricks even when she was a baby.” Freddie looked thoughtful, straining to remember. “It was how we made money, right from the start. Street shows, that sort of thing. We found a proper show, but they went bankrupt, darling. So it was back to the tailor’s for me and back to being a waitress for Kashi.” His smile widened. “And then this place opened up.”

“Yeah, I can’t see this going bankrupt anytime soon,” Roger laughed. Honestly, he felt a little better. He was surprised Freddie had told him so much; he and Kashmira normally kept quiet about their past. He was surprised, but touched too.

And Freddie nudged him, gently smiling. “So, what’s your papa bothering you about?”

“Oh…” Roger drooped again. “You know...Coming home, being a disgrace, causing my mother grief. The usual.”

“They want you to quit.” It was a statement, not a question.

“Yes.”

“Fuck ‘em,” Freddie said. He took Roger’s hand and held on tight. “You can’t spend your life doing what makes _ them _happy. It’s your life, not theirs. So long as you’re happy, fuck all the rest.” His eyes were sparkling, his tone vehement, and Roger found himself believing Freddie completely. At least for now.

“Thanks, Fred.”

“Anytime, darling.”

_ “Freddie!” _There was Kashmira in the doorway, gesturing impatiently towards the ring. “Come on, practice time.”

“Coming, love.” Freddie hopped on the bench. He caught Roger’s eye, winked, and cartwheeled to his sister. It did the trick; Roger finally relaxed, laughing at him. 

“Show off,” Kashmira grumbled, but even she was amused. Freddie waved to Roger and followed after her.

God, he was screwed. Utterly gone. 

_ Nothing can happen, _ Roger reminded himself. _ You’re both men. _

That didn’t shut his brain up. That didn’t stop the thrill of happiness he felt whenever Freddie hugged him, or called him darling. And maybe he was reading into things, maybe he was being arrogant, but he sometimes thought that Freddie felt the same way.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Being invited to Buckingham Palace of all bloody places, came as a shock. Nothing could have prepared Roger for that invitation. Why in the world would the _ Queen _want to see their show? But she did.

Which led to them meeting Anita Dobson. Which led to _ Brian _meeting Anita Dobson. Roger was no fool, he saw how his friend looked at her. She was beautiful and kind, a highly talented singer. But all the same…

“You’re married,” Roger reminded Brian in a harsh whisper.

“I just want to work with her,” Brian protested. “Branch out a little. If people associate us with such a big name, we’ll be taken more seriously. Maybe we could expand, travel around England a little.”

_ They’ll associate _ you _ with her, not _ us, _ not the circus. _He didn’t say it. He wasn’t sure what to say, if he was honest. All he knew was that their circus acts seemed tense and uncomfortable in their costumes, in the middle of the Queen’s ballrooms. Kashmira clung to Freddie’s hand; Freddie smiled and walked around with his head held high, but Roger could see the anxiety in his eyes, he saw how Freddie twitched when anyone came near him. Deacy and Veronica kept their backs to the wall, looking around at all the lords and ladies with frightened eyes. Joe paced anxiously, Mary kept crossing her arms over her low-cut leotard, smiling gratefully when Phoebe draped his coat over her. Elton, dressed as Elizabeth I as usual, didn’t seem to care; he looked defiant, maybe even a little angry.

Roger couldn’t quite blame him. This wasn’t like their usual crowds. No one was laughing with them, they were being laughed _ at _instead. 

And Brian didn’t seem to notice.

His ploy worked too: Anita agreed to work with them.

  
  
  
  
  
  


It was a beautiful theatre, and Anita looked like a fairytale come to life in her shimmering white dress. Backstage was chaos as everyone ran around checking the lighting, making sure the orchestra was prepared. Anita went through her vocal exercises, and Roger was uncomfortably aware of how Brian and Chrissie looked at her. Brian looked in awe, Chrissie already looked suspicious.

Roger looked at Brian’s kids and immediately needed a distraction. 

“Bri, the others are here,” he said. “Should I put them in the box with Chrissie? Or there’s still some front row seats.”

“Hm? No, there’s plenty of standing room,” Brian said distractedly. “Acoustics are great back there.”

“But that’s at the back! That’s right at the _ doors! _” Roger protested. He remembered how excited Freddie had been to go to an actual theatre, and his chest tightened. “Bri-”

“Well we don’t want everyone staring at them.” Before he could reply (or hit him) Brian was off across the room, chatting with Anita.

Of course, it fell to Roger to tell the others that they had been regulated to the back, in the dark.

No one said anything. They only looked at him, before trooping to their places. Freddie lingered, standing with Roger.

“He’s acting differently,” he said softly. “Brian, I mean.”

“I know,” Roger said. _ What can we do? _ he wanted to ask. _ Can we do anything? _Brian was acting too much like his family for comfort; he remembered the snobby attitudes of his old friends and cringed. He remembered how he himself had looked down on the circus before he joined, and could have slapped himself. And yet he still felt embarrassed when he ran into his old friends. Clare had marched past him in the street like he was a stranger only a few days ago. Being invited to Buckingham Palace didn’t mean anything if it was with a circus.

And this was Anita Dobson’s show; he knew this was the type of thing his parents wouldn’t miss. He dreaded the thought of running into them. 

He dreaded the thought of losing Brian to that society more.

He looked at the empty stage, and the closed curtains, and felt totally stumped. He didn’t know how to make Brian listen. Freddie squeezed his shoulder, and Roger focussed on him instead; his suit was clearly an old one, but expertly patched and darned. He didn’t have a tie, he wore a bright yellow scarf instead, and his hair was down, framing his face in thick curls.

“It’ll be okay, darling,” Freddie said, but he didn’t sound too convinced. He took his place with the others. Sighing, Roger followed him. 

To do Anita justice, it was a beautiful performance. Roger spotted a few people crying; not just women, but men too, furtively wiping at their eyes.

Freddie was _ glowing, _utterly lit up. Just Roger’s luck that Anita was singing a love song. All his attention was on Freddie, clearly swept away by the performance. Slowly, terrified, Roger took his hand.

He sagged in relief when Freddie clung to him just as tightly. He grinned, nearly laughing with the strength of his relief, his happiness. The words were right there, on the tip of his tongue, _ I love you. _ But as he turned back to the stage, he spotted his parents in one of the boxes. They weren’t look at Anita, they were looking at _ him, _ at _ Freddie, _at their clasped hands. The last time they’d looked so furious, had been when Roger got caught with another lad in university.

He remembered how hard his father had hit him then. He remembered how his mother wouldn’t talk to him for two weeks. He remembered them making him swear to never tell Clare, to never tell anyone. He remembered how they bribed his university into thinking it was a prank, a joke; he remembered Michael spreading rumours that the other boy, from a lesser family and unable to bribe his way back in, had attacked Roger. He remembered feeling sick with terror, promising that it _ was _just a joke, just a drunken dare.

Freddie glanced at him, smiling. His eyes glowed in the lamplight, he looked like a painting come to life. He was what Roger wanted.

And Roger let go of him.

Freddie’s smile dropped, and Roger couldn’t bear the hurt in his eyes. He kept his eyes on the stage, forcing himself to focus on Anita.

“Rog?” Freddie whispered. Roger didn’t answer. He edged away.

He kept his eyes on the stage, refusing to look at Freddie, refusing to even _ think _of looking at his parents.

He heard Freddie’s breathing hitch, and then Freddie was gone, elbowing his way through the circus acts, ignoring Kashmira and Deacy whispering his name, calling him back.

_ Go after him! _part of Roger’s mind screamed. And he wanted to. He wanted to run after him, to take Freddie in his arms and never let him go.

But he didn’t. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Rog, you have some making up to do.


	3. Rewrite The Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger's made up his mind: he knows what he wants, he knows who he wants. But Freddie's made up his mind too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've seen the movie then you pretty much know what's coming, but we'll have our happy ending soon enough.

** _“What if we rewrite the stars? Say you were made to be mine. Nothing could keep us apart, you'd be the one I was meant to find. It's up to you, and it's up to me, no one can say what we get to be. So why don't we rewrite the stars? Maybe the world could be ours tonight.” -Rewrite The Stars, _ ** **The Greatest Showman**

Roger wasn’t an idiot. He knew he had a lot of making up to do. The rest of the evening turned into a bit of a shit-show: Kashmira glared at him, clearly knowing what was going on. Deacy and Veronica looked suspicious.

And Brian...He was off in that fancy after-party, having told the circus troupe to go back to the circus and put on tonight’s show without him. They hadn’t even been let into the room.

“Typical,” Phoebe said quietly. Roger took in their resigned faces, but before he could apologise on Brian’s behalf, or try to come up with some excuse, Kashmira spoke.

“Well,” she said stiffly. “ _ This Is Me,  _ right?” She held her head high and turned to Roger. She still didn’t look impressed by him, but he smiled all the same.  _ This Is Me.  _ The as of yet unused song and dance number he’d written, as a way to round up the show.

“We don’t owe anyone an apology for existing,” Kashmira said, glaring around at them all, daring anyone to challenge her. “Now, I don’t know about you lot, but I’m going to put on one hell of a show tonight, and  _ fuck  _ the hecklers. We know who we are.” She turned on her heels and marched away, fists swinging. Roger followed after her, the other acts at his heels.

For such a petite girl, she suddenly seemed fearless. She ignored the whispers, the stares, the taunts. At one point she smiled right at a frowning old woman and flipped her off.

_ Like brother like sister,  _ Roger thought fondly, and just like that, his mood plummeted again, his smile vanished.  _ Freddie.  _ God, Roger owed him an apology.

It proved harder than he would have thought. 

Freddie was already dressed for the show in his newest harlequin leotard when they arrived, going through his stretches.

“Are you okay, Freddie?” he heard Deacy ask quietly.

“Just fine, darling,” Freddie said airily. He didn’t even look at Roger.

And Kashmira, fiery, brave Kashmira, announced that they’d end the show with  _ This Is Me.  _ No one argued; in fact, they were all starting to look determined, excited.

_ They’re all braver than me,  _ Roger thought. He watched as Freddie, tiny, enchanting Freddie, took over as the leader in Brian’s absence. He had the audience in the palm of his hand. At first, it seemed like nothing was wrong at all, but Roger saw the stiffness to his smile, how his eyes didn’t light up. 

He watched from his and Brian’s cramped office as the show ended, as they launched into  _ This Is Me.  _ Then, and only then, did Freddie glance his way- and he looked  _ pissed.  _ He met Roger’s eyes and glared, chin up, defiant. 

As soon as the song ended, as soon as Freddie thanked the crowd for coming, he left the ring. He dodged Kashmira’s hand, he brushed past Deacy and Mary, speeding up into a run.

_ “Everyone’s got an act,”  _ Freddie had said when they first met. Roger hadn’t been sure what he meant; he’d assumed Freddie meant you had to have an act to be in the circus. But now...Roger had been acting, hadn’t he? He’d acted like the son his parents wanted, and he’d let Freddie down.

Freddie was already gone when Roger left the office; it was impossible to get ahold of him over the next few days. He always seemed to disappear as soon as Roger approached.

He had to make it up to him. But how?

And then he had an idea.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Brian was completely on board. He pulled Freddie aside at the end of a show.

“Deacy mentioned you left the theatre early last time,” he said. “And I owe you one for handling the show here after Anita’s performance, so I bought you a ticket to the theatre for tomorrow night. It’s an opera, is that okay?”

Freddie’s eyes just lit up. He pressed his hands over his mouth, bouncing on his toes, nodding rapidly.

Brian laughed, giving him a quick hug. “You go enjoy yourself,” he said gently. “You deserve it, Fred.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


Truth be told, Freddie felt horribly out of place as he walked into the theatre. Fake it until you make it, and what not, but...Still. He was hyper-aware of the fact that he stood out. For one, his best suit was long passed its best, though he’d darned it as best he could. He didn’t own any ties; he wore his best blue and green silk scarf, draped over his shoulders. Add on his teeth, his long black hair, and his skin...And he knew he didn’t look like he belonged there.

Everyone he passed sneered. One man, around his age, called out “Go back home, freak!” as he and the young woman on his arm went up the stairs.

Freddie ignored him, marching to the front desk.

“I’m sorry, darling, I was told that Mr May left a ticket for me?”

Needless to say, he was confused when the man handed him  _ two  _ tickets. He held the spare one back out. “I think there’s been some confusion, dear, there was only meant to be one.”

“No, two,” came Roger’s voice from behind him. He sounded apologetic, embarrassed, and Freddie turned to face him. Roger shifted uncomfortably, dressed in his best, his hair brushed back. “I wasn’t sure you’d come if I asked you myself.”

This had all been  _ Roger’s  _ idea? Freddie wasn’t sure what to make of it. He wasn’t sure he dared to get his hopes up again, because Roger had made himself plain. It was a dangerous situation, if you took one wrong step you could end up dead in an alleyway, or in prison. But Roger was smiling hopefully, something vulnerable and surprisingly shy in his eyes.

So Freddie held onto both tickets, and let Roger fall into step with him.

“I’ve always wanted to go to the theatre,” Freddie confided, looking at the plush carpets, chandeliers and gilt handrails, trying to take in every detail.

Roger smiled at him and gestured towards the stairs. “Let’s go then.”

They’d only taken one more step when a harsh voice said,  _ “Roger!” _

Further up the stairs, glaring down at them, was a man and woman, arm in arm. Both were blonde, and the woman had Roger’s eyes. Their clothes were beautiful, both of them in silks and velvets with long cloaks; the woman’s diamonds glittered in the light.

He recognised them from Anita’s first show: Roger’s parents, Michael and Winifred Taylor.

They looked at him like he was an insect- worse than an insect. They looked as if they’d gladly see Freddie drop dead there and then.

Roger flinched, and Freddie waited for Roger to step back again, to pretend they were strangers...But Roger stayed next to him. 

“Mother, Father,” he said slowly. He cleared his throat, glancing between Freddie and his parents. But he stood tall, fists clenched. “Lovely to see you. This is Freddie Bulsara, I don’t believe you’ve met?”

“For pity’s sake, boy, have you no shame?” Michael demanded. “Joining up with that May fellow is one thing- but parading around with the  _ help?  _ Look at him! He should be cleaning up after you, not hanging on your arm.”

_ I’m not,  _ Freddie thought- and the penny dropped. They were referring to Anita’s show.

And he was so sick of hearing this. He was tired of being told what his place was; he was sick of people attacking him for his skin. He was so, so tired of being laughed at. This was meant to be a  _ good  _ night, he’d just wanted to see a show, was that really so much to ask?

Roger froze again, and that did it. Freddie ran for it, ignoring when Roger yelled his name.

It didn’t make a difference anyway. Why had he tried to fool himself? Roger belonged in high society, Freddie was just the circus freak, and it was illegal anyway.  _ Illegal.  _ They didn’t stand a chance.

  
  
  
  
  
  


“How dare you speak to him like that?” Roger rounded on his parents furiously, because that was  _ it,  _ he was  _ done.  _ They could say what they wanted about him, but he wasn’t about to stand by and let them insult Freddie like that.

_ I wanted to make it up to him,  _ he thought.  _ I wanted him to have fun, they have no right to ruin this for him. _

He turned to hurry after Freddie, but his mother grabbed his arm.

“Roger, darling, you’ve forgotten your place,” she said softly, almost pleadingly. But Roger knew she’d never accept him as he was. He was done bending over backwards to please them.

“My place,” he scoffed. “I don’t want any part of it.” He pulled away and ran after Freddie.

There was no sign of him outside, but Roger was certain he knew where Freddie was.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Honestly, Freddie was surprised when Roger came running in. He was preparing himself to practice, to blow off some steam, when Roger came running into the ring.

For a moment, they just looked at each other.

“They’re small-minded people, Fred,” Roger eventually said, just above a whisper.

“You don’t get it, do you?” Freddie asked. “That’s what it’s always like, darling. Hell, that was nothing really.” He set up the ropes, just wanting to get off the ground and out of his own head for a while.

“I wouldn’t let anyone talk to you like that,” Roger said. He tossed his jacket and hat aside.

“Then you really don’t get it,” Freddie scoffed. “You can’t stop it. You can’t-” He cut himself off, and with one sharp tug of the rope, he was in the air. One quick leap, and his arms were looped through a hoop, and he hovered in the air above Roger. “It’s not that easy, Rog,” he said apologetically. Slowly, he began to lower, all too aware of Roger’s eyes on him. It was much harder to concentrate when Roger looked at him like that.

“How do I know you won’t run again?” Freddie asked quietly. He didn’t really mean for Roger to hear him, but he did.

“I won’t,” Roger said. As soon as Freddie’s feet touched the floor, he was right in front of him, pulling him from the hoop and into his arms. “I want you,” he said bluntly. “And I know you want me too.”

“You’re very cocky,” Freddie said weakly.

“It’s true.” Roger’s hand cupped his cheek, forcing him to keep eye-contact. “Forget everyone else. I don’t  _ care  _ about everyone else, I care about  _ you.  _ It can just be you and me- come on, don’t you  _ want  _ that?”

But this time, Freddie pulled away. He went back to the ropes, releasing the weights. Roger followed him, his hands tight on Freddie’s hips.

“Of course I do,” he said. “But you’re not the first person to say things like this, Roggie.” He glanced at Roger over his shoulder; he let his head rest against Roger’s shoulder and closed his eyes. “And none of them meant it.” And he was back in the air, slipping out of Roger’s hands, swinging around the room, leaping from rope to rope, swinging until he felt dizzy, until he landed on one of the highest platforms; he sat with his legs dangling over the edge, still holding the rope loosely.

He expected Roger to take a hint and leave, but he got that damn stubborn look on his face and (ignoring Freddie’s protests) grabbed the rope next to him. He really must have been watching Freddie closely, because he knew just what to do to launch himself into the air, but his grip and posture were terrible. He just barely managed to swing high enough to reach Freddie’s platform, and scrambled for the edge, nearly falling completely. Freddie had to grab him and steady him, pulling Roger in to sit next to him.

“What the hell are you  _ doing? _ ” he demanded.

“I’m trying to  _ talk  _ to you!” Roger said, exasperated. 

“Well you can do that without risking your neck!”

“Not when you keep flying around like that.” Roger grabbed his shoulders. “Just  _ listen  _ to me. I don’t know who else has come along and said all this before; I don’t know what other men have come into your life.” (And Freddie couldn’t help but be shocked to hear it said so bluntly, out loud.) “But, Fred, I  _ mean  _ it. I want you, I  _ only  _ want you.”

“I believe you,” Freddie said softly. “I think that’s the worst part, darling.” He wished he could wake up in a fair world. He wished he could just rewrite the world into the one he wanted to live in. 

When Roger kissed him, he didn’t protest. The rope slipped from his hands as he wrapped his arms around Roger’s neck. He let Roger lay him down, he willingly spread his legs when Roger rolled on top of him.

And all the while, he felt like an idiot.

_ You can’t,  _ he told himself.  _ You can’t have him, you know you can’t.  _

Because Roger wasn’t the first man to make these promises, far from it, and none of the others had meant it. They’d only wanted to get Freddie into their bed and leave straight after. Some of them were married, and expected Freddie to be their dirty little secret; they expected him to wait in his flat for them and spread his legs for them, and keep quiet when they went home. Some of them were perfect gentlemen, until they had a few beers, and then fists flew. They all wanted something, and that something wasn’t  _ Freddie,  _ not really, not at all.

He couldn’t have a normal life, and usually he was okay with that. But not at times like these, not now. Not when he was so sharply reminded that he was the trapeze freak, the boy with the gawky teeth, the Parsi boy who people mocked.

He wasn’t the type of person that men stuck around for.

With expert ease, he slipped from Roger’s grasp.

“I can’t,” he said, and he hated how his voice broke. He wanted to sound strong and firm, he wanted to seem above it all. “I’m sorry, but I can’t. Not again.”

“Fred-”

“You’ll change your mind,” Freddie said, trying to convince himself. “You’ll see how hard it is; you’ll get sick of having to hide all the time, and then you’ll leave.”

“Freddie, please-”

“I can’t,” Freddie said again. Before Roger could reach for him again, Freddie leapt from the platform, back to the ropes. He swung his way back down the ground, ignoring Roger calling his name.

_ “Fred!” _

“I’m not yours, Rog,” Freddie said, keeping his back to him, tears stinging his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

And he ran, grabbing his dress-shoes and coat.

_ “FREDDIE!” _

Somehow, this hurt worse than all the others combined.

  
_ I love you,  _ Freddie thought.  _ I’m sorry.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry 💔 But only one more chapter to go, and they'll have their happy ending, I promise!


	4. From Now On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tragedy strikes, but if they work hard enough they may just get their happy ending.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go, the final chapter! 💕

** _“And from now on these eyes will not be blinded by the lights. From now on, what's waited ‘til tomorrow starts tonight. It starts tonight. And let this promise in me start, like an anthem in my heart. From now on.” -From Now On, _ ** **The Greatest Showman**

It was torture, having to watch Freddie every day. It was awful having to act like nothing had happened, to just...Go back to the way they were before. As if Roger didn’t have Freddie in his arms for that one perfect moment, as if he hadn’t kissed him, as if he hadn’t told him the truth. As if Freddie hadn’t opened up in turn- and Roger wanted to hunt down every man that had ever hurt him.

Of course, that would also mean hunting down _ himself, _because he’d pulled away, he’d scared Freddie off in the first place, and now Freddie wouldn’t give him another chance.

If he’d just been braver…

But there was no point in wondering about what-ifs. Freddie had made himself plain. 

What he could and _ did _ worry about, was Brian. He’d gone to join Anita on her tour, and Roger was no idiot; he saw the way they looked at each other. Chrissie was no idiot either, Roger _ knew _that she knew. 

He couldn’t shake the feeling that things were about to go tits-up. Their ring-master was travelling the United Kingdom with Anita Dobson, he was clearly head over heels for her, and she for him. Rumours were already rampant about them, but Brian leaving with her just made it worse. It was one more excuse for people to harass the circus and claim they were all sinners of the worst sort, that they set immoral examples.

_ Well, _ Roger thought. _ They’re not totally wrong. _

Because just look at him: pining for a man. It would land him in prison, or killed, depending on who found out. Maybe both, if he was honest.

But it seemed worth it to him. Anything would have been worth it, if he could say that Freddie was his. The more he was forced to sit in silence, the more he was sure that he’d fight off anything that came their way, that he’d stand up to anyone, if he could just prove to Freddie that he was serious. That he loved him.

Instead, he ran the show as best he could (and he wouldn’t sell himself short, he was improving every day), and he watched Freddie fly through the air; he smiled proudly as the crowd clapped and gasped in admiration. When he heard them comment on how handsome Freddie was, how talented, he whole-heartedly agreed. Even so, part of him wanted to say _ Back off, he’s mine! _

But he wasn’t. That was the problem.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Freddie hated this. He was keenly aware of Roger’s eyes on him during every show- and before, and after. His heart skipped a beat when Roger smiled at him, his skin burned where Roger touched him, and it was the hardest thing in the world to pretend everything was normal.

And then, to top it all off, the mobs continued to grow. For all that they were attracting more and more fans, they were also attracting more and more hatred.

It all came to a head as Anita’s tour ended.

The first blow came that morning; on the way to work, Freddie and Kashmira crossed a news stand- and there, on the front page, was a picture of Anita and Brian kissing.

“Oh no,” Kashmira said weakly. Those in Brian’s favour had liked to portray him as an inventive family-man, who was driven by love of his wife and children. This? This would be enough to turn a _ lot _of people away, no questions asked, particularly families.

Freddie bought a copy and stormed into the circus; he threw the paper on the nearest table and said, “We’re fucked, darlings.”

“We’re not,” Roger said, desperately.

“Don’t be daft, Rog,” Freddie said. Despite himself, his voice softened when he addressed Roger. “You know how many people this will drive away.”

“A lot of people won’t care though,” Joe said. “Hell, I saw one headline that said Brian and Anita were _ star-crossed lovers. _” He rolled his eyes. “They’re trying to spin it as some Romeo and Juliet shit.”

“Whatever they’re saying,” Roger said through gritted teeth. “I’ll be having words with that idiot when he gets back. He can’t run off on us, and ignore us, and- _ fuck, _ he’s just been acting like a dick for _ weeks. _”

“Try months,” Mary mumbled.

_ But we’re the ones who pay for it, _Freddie thought. Because they were the freaks. They were the weirdos, the spooks, the devils and sinners. Brian was the high-class gentleman. Certainly, he had his own critics that called him selfish, insane, a money-grabbing, self-serving miser...But no one physically attacked him, no one threw things at him, he didn’t get the same verbal abuse as the rest of them. When Brian told people to back off, they did. They may grumble and swear, but after some harsh words from Brian, the hecklers would leave.

Freddie couldn’t _ help _ but be pissed at him. He’d fucked off on tour with Anita, leaving them to fend for themselves, throwing money away on this tour, and _ now… _

But maybe he wasn’t being fair. Maybe he just needed someone to be mad at, other than himself.

That didn’t help him calm down, though. He still quite wanted to punch Brian on the nose, thank you.

He caught Roger’s eyes and blushed, quickly looking away. 

Forget Brian. Forget everything. He had a show to put on.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Roger did his best, but he wondered if he was fooling the audience at all. He felt tense, he was pissed, he was trying to ignore his feelings for Freddie, and he was sure he’d given a very stiff performance.

Worst of all, he recognised the group of men in the front row. They threw peanuts at the performers, shouting slurs; they drank during the whole show. They were always vocal in their hatred; before he’d even joined the circus himself, these men had tried to fight Phoebe and Elton, only leaving when Brian and Joe cornered them.

And they were still there when the show was over, muttering angrily together.

Roger squared his shoulders and marched over.

“I’ll have to ask you to leave,” he said.

“Oh?” One of them lurched to his feet. “This is _ our _ city, lad. We think _ you _should leave. You and your little freaks.”

He clenched his fists, staring the man down, refusing to be intimidated. Elton, out of costume and in his threadbare robe, came up next to him.

“I won’t ask you again,” Roger said.

“Or what?” the man sneered. He gave Roger a shove, Roger stumbled back- but Elton pounced, punching the man square in the face.

It was chaos from there.

The rest of the drunken men jumped forward to their friend’s aid, easily over-taking Roger and Elton, but then Joe was suddenly there, tackling one of the men to the ground. He heard Kashmira yell _ “CHARGE!” _ and the rest of the acts came running. Suddenly, the men were outnumbered, fists were flying, people were literally being _ thrown _across the room. He saw two men go flying behind the curtains, landing in a heap backstage.

Roger wished he could say he was surprised, but he wasn’t. This was months in the making.

Instinctively, he looked around for Freddie, but he was nowhere to be seen, but Kashmira was still here, and Freddie wouldn’t ever leave without her.

And then the fire started.

The bastards had used one of the oil lamps, it was clear from how fast it spread. The piles of hay for the animals, the sawdust, the sacks and papers, the spare posters, rugs and curtains, acted as the perfect kindling. The fire spread rapidly, faster than Roger would have believed.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “_Fuck! _Everyone, come on, get out!” He grabbed Mary’s hand, pulling her along. Those fuckers in the mob were already well ahead of them, yelling in terror, stumbling into the street.

“The animals!” he heard Joe cry; the American ran back to free them, Deacy and Veronica right at his heels, and Roger had to suppress the instinct to go after them. He focused on the front doors, herding everyone along, shouting for them to _ hurry damn it, hurry! _

By the time they reached the doors, the entire building was up in flames. Some of the animals sprinted ahead of them, but not all of them, and Roger knew there was no chance they could get them all out.

_ I’m sorry, _he thought, and then he was stumbling down the steps, shielding Mary from the smoke and flames. Phoebe stumbled behind them, and Roger grabbed his hand, steadying him. Thank God, there was Elton, Kashmira, Deacy and Veronica, and Joe. He quickly did a head count, and for a moment, he felt relieved.

And then, inexplicably, Brian was pushing through the crowd of shocked onlookers, with Anita, Chrissie and the kids right behind him.

“Roger! Rog!” Brian grabbed him by the shoulders. “Oh, thank God. Fuck, is everyone out? Is everyone okay?”

“I think so,” Roger said. He looked around again- and his heart froze. “Freddie,” he breathed. He turned sharply and shouted, “Kash, where’s Freddie!?” but he already knew the answer. He just didn’t want to believe it. How could anyone still be in that inferno, how could anyone still be _ alive _in there?

“Oh shit, no,” Brian gasped. Anita had her hands pressed over her mouth, he saw the terror on the kids’ faces. Kashmira screamed and lunged forward, fighting against Deacy and Joe.

“Let me _ GO! _ ” she shrieked. “FREDDIE! _ FREDDIE! _ Let me go, I need to get my brother!”

It was an easy choice.

Roger turned, dodging Brian’s hands, and ran back into the flames. If there was even the slightest chance that Freddie was alive in there, Roger wouldn’t leave him.

  
  
  
  
  
  


It was hell; this was surely the fiery pits of hell that the priests preached about? Freddie had just been getting changed when the fire broke out; he’d barely finished pulling his shirt on when he smelled the smoke. His first thought was _ Kashi, Rog, I have to find them! _as he ran from the dressing room. He could hear shouting and screaming, he could hear the cries of the animals; he had to pull his shirt up over his nose and mouth, already coughing as smoke poured down the corridor from under the door.

Just as he opened the door, part of the ceiling collapsed; the beams blocked the door, he could only open it a crack, and suddenly he couldn’t breathe for a different reason entirely. Panic overwhelmed him, and glanced back the way he’d come. No windows. Only the dressing room. No other doors.

“Help!” he shouted. “Someone help!” But there was no answer. No matter how hard he pushed, the door wouldn’t open any further; he couldn’t squeeze through, he could only fit an arm through, and with the beams on fire there was no way he could move them.

_ I’m going to die in here, _Freddie thought.

Soon enough, he could barely stand; he fell to his knees, coughing and hacking.

_ Kashi, _ he thought. _ Rog. _ God, he was going to die in here, and he’d turned Roger down. He hadn’t gone for it when he could have, he’d left Roger behind, and now he was going to die, _ oh shit, oh fuck, he was going to die. _

He was struggling to keep his eyes open when he heard his name; “FREDDIE! FRED, CAN YOU HEAR ME!?”

_ Roger? _

“I-” he choked, coughing, struggling to keep his eyes open. “I-I’m in he-here!”

_ “FREDDIE!” _

He could see Roger past the flames, covered in soot and dirt. Roger let out a strangled sob, sprinting to the door- and to Freddie’s shock, he grabbed the beams. He screamed in pain, but he still tried to lift them.

“Wh- wha…?” He couldn’t get enough air, he wanted to call Roger crazy, to scream at him for coming back in here, he wanted to tell him he loved him and apologise, but he couldn’t.

His eyes were slipping shut, but Roger did it, he managed to fling the beams aside and he flung the door open fully, running to Freddie and lifting him up, holding him tightly to his chest.

“I’m here,” Roger said, coughing for breath. “I’m here, you’re okay.” 

Freddie barely heard him; his eyes drifted shut.

“Love you,” he mumbled, and he couldn’t remember anything after that.

  
  
  
  
  
  


When Freddie’s eyes closed, Roger’s heart stopped, but he didn’t dare stop running. His hands were in agony, he could barely breathe, he could barely _ see _past the smoke and fire, but he ran as fast as he could.

_ “Rog!” _Incredibly, Brian came running through the smoke, eyes wide with terror. “Rog, Freddie!” He nearly slammed into them, he was running so fast. “Thank God! Shit, come on, we have to get out of here!” He took Freddie from his arms, ignoring his (admittedly weak) protests, and led the way out. All Roger could focus on was Freddie, his hair trailing, his eyes closed, a burn mark on his cheek and covered in soot.

_He nearly died, _ Roger thought. Fuck, _ fuck, _he could have lost him.

But there was no time to slow down, because the flames only continued to grow, and the ceiling was creaking ominously.

They barely made it onto the front steps when the roof collapsed entirely.

_ That could have been us, _Roger thought in terror. He was barely aware of the medics tugging him away, babbling about getting him to a hospital, about seeing to his hands. How the hell had this all gone so wrong so quickly?

“Freddie?” he murmured, twisting around, trying to find him. They were loading him into an ambulance on a stretcher. Kashmira clung to his hand, sobbing. They put them all in the same ambulance, and Kashmira flung herself at Roger, hugging him tightly.

“Thank you,” she sobbed. “Oh God, thank you.”

“Is he okay?” Roger asked desperately.

“He’s taken a lot of smoke,” one of the medics said. “But he’s still breathing.” 

  
  
  
  
  
  


When Freddie woke up, he had no idea where he was. His chest ached, his throat ached, his head was swimming, and there something stung on his cheek. Kashmira was fast asleep in a chair next to him, the sun was high in the sky.

_ Hospital, _ he thought blearily, and it all came flooding back. The fire. Roger. _ Roger, _oh fuck, where was he? Was he okay? Was he even alive?

Weakly, he sat up, trying to get his bearings. Before he could do any more than look at Kashmira, the doors to the (otherwise empty) ward opened- and Roger marched in, his hands thickly wrapped in bandages.

He stopped dead when he saw Freddie.

“Hi,” he said, and there were tears in his eyes.

“You’re an idiot,” Freddie said, smiling despite it all. Tears spilled down his cheeks before he could stop them, and Roger ran to him, scooping him up in his arms, clinging to him as best he could.

“I thought I’d lost you,” Roger said, burying his face in Freddie’s hair. “God, Fred, I thought you were dead.”

Freddie closed his eyes, holding on tight.

“I love you,” he said. “I’m sorry, darling. About what I said before. I love you.”

Roger half-laughed, half-sobbed. “I love you too,” he said. Freddie glanced at Kashmira, who was still dead to the world. There was no one else on the ward. Smiling, he pulled back, cupping Roger’s face in his hands.

He kissed him, clinging to Roger like he was drowning; one of his hands tugged on Roger’s hair, the other on the back of his jacket, and Roger pushed him down, half lying on top of him.

_ “Ahem.” _ Ah. Of course _ now _Kashmira was awake. But at least she was smiling.

“At least wait until I’m not here,” she said. “I don’t need to see my brother being pawed about, thank you very much.”

“Sorry,” Roger said sheepishly.

“I’m not,” Freddie said.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Well, the whole building was in ruins. There was nothing left. To top it all off, the bank wouldn’t give Brian the money to fix it; his savings didn’t cover it, and they wouldn’t give him a loan. Anita clung to his hand, looking at the charred ruins with horrified eyes.

But Roger had always been smart.

“I saved my money,” he said, shrugging. Smirking, he added, “Besides, I had more than you to begin with. On one condition, yeah? From now on, we’re equals. We’ll split the earnings fifty-fifty.”

“Deal,” Brian said brightly. 

It still wasn’t enough to rebuild, but Brian knew how to think on his feet, and Roger knew that grin all too well.

“Land by the docks is cheaper,” he said excitedly. “We don’t even need a building really…” His grin widened. “We could use a tent.”

“A tent?” Freddie repeated flatly.

The troupe all looked at each other. Deacy sighed, Elton shrugged, and Freddie turned back to Brian with a smirk, tucked under Roger’s arm.

“I hope you know what you’re doing, darling,” he said.

“Don’t I always?” Brian asked.

_ “No,” _was the resounding answer.

  
  
  
  
  
  


This time, however, Brian _ did _ know what he was doing. It paid off, it _ worked. _Rather than a building, they now had a sprawling red and yellow tent, with even more room than ever.

To Roger’s surprise, the public seemed delighted to have them back.

_ “A celebration of humanity,” _one article declared them. Roger wondered at that sometimes; he wondered if, one day, they’d live in a world where he and Freddie didn’t have to hide. He wondered if they’d ever live in a world where everyone was equal, regardless of gender, skin colour, or appearance.

Not yet. But maybe one day.

“Ready, Freddie?” Roger asked, poking his head around the curtain. Freddie was tying the ribbons on his shoes, dressed in a sparkling silver leotard. He grinned widely, not hiding his teeth for once. He all but skipped over to Roger.

“Let’s knock them dead, love,” he said, tilting up to kiss him. Roger twirled his cane, doffing his new top hat at Freddie. Two ring masters proved to be better than one, that was for sure; he and Brian quickly worked out a routine, riling the audience up in their own ways.

His arm slipped around Freddie’s waist, holding him close as they joined the rest of the acts.

“See you in a minute,” Roger said. He kissed Freddie’s forehead and ran ahead to join Brian. Already, the music had started, and people were stomping and clapping along.

“Greatest show in town,” Roger said brightly, nudging Brian’s side.

“Always,” Brian replied with a grin.

They ran into the ring together, in perfect sync, and the show began.

And if Roger had difficulty looking away from Freddie the whole night, that was his business. Freddie, cheeky as ever, stole Roger’s hat at one point and tossed it to Kashmira. Just like that, a crazy game of keep-away started: Kashmira threw the hat to Deacy, who tossed it to Brian, who laughingly threw it to Mary. Smirking, Mary put it on, but she allowed Roger to snatch it back.

“You’ll pay for that later, Fred,” Roger warned, though he was smiling. He couldn’t seem to _ stop _smiling lately.

“You’ll have to catch me first,” Freddie laughed, somersaulting into the air.

This wasn’t the life Roger’s family had expected for him. All contact had ceased by now. But this _ was _ the life Roger wanted; colour and excitement, friends around him, a cheering crowd, and _ Freddie. _ Freddie, who made his heart leap, who he'd be going home with that night, and every other night afterwards. Freddie who enchanted every crowd with ease; Freddie who was _ his. _

Roger wouldn’t have it any other way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, guys! Happy Froger week, it's been fun 💖

**Author's Note:**

> Roger is already smitten, someone help him.


End file.
